Glory To The Machine
rating: -19+x

By three times I coat my body with the oil three times consecrated. By three times I cleanse my body of the stain of the flesh. I was weakly lit by the unstable light of a candle, throwing my own deformed shade on walls. This shade seemed to dance and wriggle in an impossible manner on the walls of my cell.

For some time, my colleagues and I sums invests with the holy driving force to the tiniest fragment of our body. We know it, we have to carry out His holy will. Silently, I cross the corridors of our forge-temple. Only the sound of my footsteps and gearings resound on the coarse stone walls. I walk in front of my colleagues's cells. Empty. I am the last one to leave, the last one to go to carry out the will of Mekhane to destroy the FLESH.

One by one, I walk up the steps that lead to the exit. I walk in the darkness, but I do not feel the travel. As I passed them, I hit the switches and little by little the forge died. The bellows went silent, the melting steel congealed and the hammers stopped hitting the iron. I abandoned the sacred duty to maintain the forge for another one, even more sacred. Another generation shall probably come to resuscitate the forge.

The holy driving strength transported me. I was probably in a metropolis, seen how organic life teemed. They think me a mentally ill person, heresy blurs their perception of the world, but soon they will know the joy of life under Its protection. They point at me, to make me go away. From now on, the light encases me, like a halo surrounding a martyr. But it is not my case. I am not a martyr. I am only a sanctimonious person.

The first time I opened my flesh to replace it was a revelation. My flesh, sick, bad, became perfection. My roarings changed into songs.
My organs were torn away, my muscles were removed. Without my flesh, everything non-initiated would have seen only my nudity, but it was the opposite. I was cleared of the stain. And I lived. Finally. My viscera became pumps, my muscles pistons and my blood oil.

When I look at these heretics, I see only individuals who ignore the real path. In their world they look for perfection by biological surgery, but it is vain. They only modify an already obsolete element. The flesh is weak. To obtain perfection, to reach this ideal, it is necessary to replace it.

I feel It coming. Again, the driving strength travels my members. I feel Its kindly look settling on me. And I shall achieve Its will. Cogs accelerate, an electric arc dances on my metallic skin hoping to find a weakness or to be embedded there. Everything accelerates. My circuits saturate, warm up, but it is on purpose. Contradictory information makes my body flounder like a puppet. I lose influence whereas It takes control of me. I am not afraid, because I shall be within it recycled.

From now on, I am only a dislocated puppet hardly holding on its supports, controlled by an upper being. My steps go unsteady, but swift. My gestures become more and more abrupt and muddled. I fall on my knees. My whole body is affected by cramps, some oil goes out of my mouth. I am not quite strong enough to bear Its presence, but it doesn't matter. Everything will be finished. And I shall be recycled and reforged under Its kindly look.

My body twists itself on the ground, the steel is becoming red under heat. People quickly move away. They are probably afraid, but it is in vain. The driving force grows in me, my mechanical heart is ardent. A deep light gets free of my body, flashes of lightning dance over everything around me. My optics fail, I can't see anything anymore. One by one my senses leave me, I feel nothing anymore. I am totally isolated from everything.

Glory to the machine.

"A new suicide attack took place in center of Dublin. Thirty fatalities and hundreds are severely wounded. This eighth attack has not been claimed yet. An unidentified individual destroyed a shopping mall. Witnesses report a flash of blinding light. The nature of the explosive is unknown. Hans Gerd, for France24. "

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License